


A Waking Dream

by LucasParker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucasParker/pseuds/LucasParker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke wonders if something inside of her is broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hawke loves days like this. Despite the fact that her gait is slow, and her muscles ache from exhaustion, her heart is jubilant. Though long and arduous, Hawke enjoys the time she spends mastering her swordplay. 

While it’s true that her father is the provider, Hawke often finds herself training into the night in her effort to improve. 

Hawke is only nineteen but she is her family’s second line of defense in case of tragedy she dare not dwell on.

The sun is setting in the horizon when she finally makes it home. The screen door to the back creaks open, the sound echoing in the small house. She looks around cautiously, half expecting to find her mother's fretful gaze but pleasantly surprised when she sees that the kitchen is empty. 

The overbearing weight of her mother’s disapproval is exhausting at times. She’s happy to have a reprieve from it.

As she closes the door behind her, Rufus, Hawke's pet Mabari, wads over to greet her. She smiles affectionately at the pup and rubs behind his ears before walking over to the table. Placing her great sword against the wall, she sits down to eat the plate of food her mother left out for her.

Hawke sinks into the chair, enjoying the rare silence that permeates the air.

x

Hawke runs a towel through wet hair as she walks to her room. The bath she took, while short, was pleasant and most importantly, got the job done. She’s barely through the door when she finds her arms full. The cloth slips to the floor. 

A heady chuckle escapes her as a familiar warmth seeps into her skin. She buries her face in soft brunette locks and inhales, the smell of lyrium and roses wafting her senses. 

With an arm locked around a slim waist, Hawke pushes the door behind her shut before settling against it. Her grip tightens before she moves back so she can grin down at the girl in her arms. 

"Maker, what has mother been feeding you? You're almost as heavy as Rufus." 

Predictably, her sister blanches at her words. Pretty brown eyes narrow in annoyance as Bethany glares up at her. "We can't all be wirily like you, Marian." Soft fingers lightly trail along her bicep. "I thought you’d have gained some muscle by now. You’re so thin a breeze could knock you over, sister." 

Hawke is equal parts offended and amused. "Haven’t you heard that it’s what’s inside that counts, Bethy?’

Bethany releases a delightful little huff as she untangles herself from Hawke's arms so she can step back and look at her. She surveys her closely, possibly checking for any sign of injury. Hawke smiles fondly at her sister, a happy flutter passing through her at the worry she can see in Bethany’s eyes. 

However, the fond feeling dissipates and is replaced by something heavier when Bethany crosses her arms against her chest. The girls ample bosom pushes up and strains her night shift, almost spilling out of the flimsy material. 

Heat infuses in Hawke’s cheeks. 

Her sister has curves that don't belong on a fifteen year old.

She cuts her eyes away, confused and discomforted by the thought. 

Lately, she has found herself plagued by uncomfortable notions, almost vague enough that she can make up excuses for why they exist. This way she can pretend that her eyes don't linger on her baby sisters slowly maturing form and that she doesn't notice how heat swirls sickly in her stomach when they're pressed close together. 

Exhaling, Hawke manages what she hopes to be a cheerful smile, forcing the nagging imaginings back into the dark corners of her mind. "Besides." She picks up the conversation from where it left off and gently ruffles Bethany's hair. "What matters is that I'm strong enough to sweep a girl off her feet when I have my way with her."

Bethany's nose scrunches up adorably. “You’re a wretch." 

"You know it." Hawke pushes up and away from the door, away from her too trusting sister and the lingering temptation of her presence. She walks to her side of the room, undoing the strings of her tunic as she goes before shrugging it off. She tosses it in the corner and picks up her night shift, tugging it over her head with a sigh. 

Her earlier exhaustion once again makes itself known. She pulls back the covers and turns so she can say goodnight to Bethany only to pause when she spots the delicate frown on her sister's brow. 

Hawke straightens up. "Is something the matter?"

Bethany nibbles on her bottom lip. "It’s just...you’re out so often now.” She wrings her hands together. “and you come home even later than father sometimes. You’re already an amazing swordsman, sister. Do you really need to spend so much time training?"

Pausing, Hawke deliberates on the question, sensing that there’s more to it than simple curiosity. The answer should be an obvious one. The need to protect her family has always been there, ingrained so tightly in Hawke's being that she can scarcely remember a time when it wasn't at the forefront of her mind. 

But…

She collapses on her bed and tucks an arm behind her neck as she leans back against the headboard.

"Absolutely. Have you any idea how impressive the girls find me, Bethy?" She asks, signature grin in place. “Why else do you think I stay out so late? They can barely contain themselves when they pass me on their way home. ‘Oh, Marian is just so amazing.’” she mimics a high tone. “‘Look how her muscles bulge as she swings her great sword.’ They practically throw themselves at me! Who knew becoming a warrior would open up so many fantastic opportunities.”

Bethany rolls her eyes with a shake of her head. "Why do I ever expect a serious answer from you." she grumbles in annoyance.

Hawke smile softens as she gazes at her sister fondly. Bethany doesn't need to know the real reason why she pushes herself past the point of exhaustion. Her sister is too kind, too sweet. Always clinging to the guilt that Hawke knows weighs on her for the perceived burden she believes her magic places on the family. 

She closes her eyes, the conversation drawing a memory to her. 

Two sick bastards, _Templars_ circling her then eight year old sisters prone form, laughing and making disgusting jokes that still made her blood boil, even after all this time. In that moment, she had felt a rage that would slowly but surely grow unbearable in the years that came after.

Hawke had cut through the men quickly, the kills messy and satisfying. Blood had soaked through her tunic and painted the ground red but she had hardly noticed. Her focus was on Bethany, always on Bethany. 

She remembers hovering over her sister’s still body, crying and begging her to be okay even as Malcolm healed her.

Hawke thinks that maybe something inside of her is broken. After that day, she had become fixated on protecting Bethany. The moments that weren't spent training obsessively, she spent with her sister, watching over her, making sure no harm came to her. She scarcely let the girl out of her sight. 

Perhaps that was why her thoughts had become so...depraved. At times it felt as though Bethany were her whole world. Maybe her sick fantasies rose from her compulsive need to keep Bethany safe and had burgeoned into a need to just _keep_ her. 

She breathes in and out slowly, willing the tormenting thoughts away. Her eyes shoot open when she feels a familiar weight settle against her chest. She automatically wraps her free arm around Bethany's waist and pulls her closer. 

Her heart mimics the beat of drums.

"I don’t like it when you stay out late, Ree."

It twists painfully at her sister's words.

"I know, Beth."

Hawke tenses when Bethany buries her face in her neck, her sister's breath causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. 

"I miss you." the words are mumbled against a strumming pulse. Bethany's fingers curl around the cloth near her heart. 

"I know." She repeats, guilt striking her at her very core. Hawke swallows back the words on the tip of her tongue, words that would reveal too much if she let them loose. Instead, she takes a breath. 

"If something happens-" she stops, inhales and starts again. “I-I need to be strong enough to take care of us, Bethy." 

Bethany’s expression is determined when she leans up to look Hawke in the eye. "Father says I'm getting better at my magic. I can help too. And so can Carver. It doesn't always have to fall to you, sister."

Hawke silently disagrees.

"It gets lonely here sometimes." Bethany continues, fingers tracing Hawke’s jaw before moving up to brush away her bangs. “Father is always working and Carver is gone almost as much as you are. Not that he would spend time with me even if he was here. And you know how mother is.” Bethany’s voice softens a bit. “I just wish you were here more, Marian.” 

Hawke feels dizzy under Bethany's gaze, intense and loving, full of pleading adoration. Her arm unconsciously tightens around the girl and she is overtaken by need.

"I'm here now." She chokes out, her eyes slipping closed once more, shielding her from her sister’s sweet face.

A helpless little sigh is the only answer she receives. Bethany is hurt. Hawke doesn’t need to see her to be able to tell that. She hates that her sister is distressed, hates knowing that she's the cause of it. 

She cups the back of Bethany's head and draws her close, presses a kiss to her cheek, followed by several more down a tanned jaw. She forces herself to stop when Bethany murmurs her name. 

There’s a familiar twist in her stomach that makes her nervous. The same feeling of disquiet from earlier returns tenfold. Like before, she pushes it away, ignoring it, hoping it doesn't return even as Bethany's sigh turns wistful. 

Hawke shivers as blunt nails gently scratch along the base of her neck. "I worry about you, sister." Bethany curls a stray lock around her finger and tugs. "I'm scared you'll get hurt one day." after a moment, the soothing strokes return. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you." 

Her heart swells and deflates all at once. She more than understands how Bethany feels. She would do anything to keep her safe. Hawke has and would kill anyone in order to protect her sister and she would do more still, even if it meant giving up her own life. 

Still, she doesn't tell Bethany this, knowing the words, no matter how true and unchanging, would only upset her. 

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Hawke takes a breath. "You worry too much, Bethy.” she murmurs as she strokes the crease between Bethany’s brow. “You'll get frown lines at this rate. The last thing you want to do is age prematurely and well, boys your age aren’t all that interested in older women." Hawke's grin is light and teasing. She wants to chase away the shadows in her sister's eyes, and though her mind races with exhilarating ideas on how to do just that, she knows she can’t act on them. 

In the end, she always resorts to this. 

_Do you actually know how to take things seriously?_ Carver once asked her. Yes, she does. Actually showing it is another matter.

"Besides, you know Mother would kill me if I died. Who would she constantly berate if I were to pass.” 

"Sister, please." 

"How am I supposed to enjoy the sweet embrace of the Maker's bosom with that woman nagging at me beyond the grave?" 

Bethany giggles, her hands falling away. "Sometimes I worry about that sense of humor of yours, sister." 

"Please, I'm a delight, a national treasure." Hawke urges Bethany to her side, settling in behind her so she can secure an arm around her waist. It’s easier to ignore what she wants when Bethany isn’t facing her. "Andraste herself would swoon at my wonderful charm.”

"Maker, go to sleep." 

Hawke chuckles lightly, pleased at having distracted her sister. And yet, guilt nags away at her. 

She likens herself to a trickster. Her smiles come too easily and her words are nonchalant, empty. What she feels and what she says don’t match up. She won’t allow them to. The dichotomy of her emotions drives her crazy at times. 

She buries her nose in Bethany's hair and inhales. The scent of her sisters soap is comforting and Bethany is warm against her. The guilt slowly ebbs away. She feels secure in the knowledge that for now, Bethany is safe, from the world and most importantly, from herself. 

Right here, in this room, at this moment, there's no place she'd rather be. 

x


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke's cheek rests on a propped up palm as she sits, her expression vacant. She spins the hilt of a dagger with her other hand, leaving little scuffs on the table. 

Sleep has once again eluded her. 

It is early in the morning and she is exhausted. Hawke continuously considers Bethany's plea from that night almost a week ago, weighing the pros and cons. 

She's been at this for days. It distracts her from her training. She needs to come to a decision that will benefit them both. What harm could there be at spending more time at home? 

Hawke's mind wanders and she thinks of Bethany's askew night shift, of soft skin left vulnerable to her touch. _If_ she were to touch. She flushes, once again ashamed of her unwanted desires. 

_This isn't just for me_ , she has to remind herself. To _convince_ herself. 

Surely if it would make Bethany happy... 

"It's not fair!" 

Hawke is jolted out of her thoughts by the shout, turning just in time to catch her little brother stomping over to their mother. "You don't care if Marian stays out all night!"

She holds in a sigh, sinking further into the chair. It's the start of an argument that Hawke is used to-and quite frankly, sick of-hearing, but still, the ire in her brother's voice stings, as always.

Sometimes she feels that Carver's jealousy of the perceived freedoms she's afforded has tipped into the realm of disdain. In a way, she can understand it. He's more than capable. Their mother babies him and Bethany too much. 

Leandra sighs, glancing up at him as she wipes her hands on the cloth of her apron. "Oh, Carver, dear..." she pauses, her eyes lowering almost as if she's second guessing herself before she continues, voice gaining a bit of strength. "It's too dangerous for you to be out that late. What if something happens?" 

Scoffing, Carver runs a hand through his shaggy brown locks irritably. "Maker's breath-Mother, I'll be _fine_. My mates will be there tomorrow too."

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

Annoyance twists Carver's features. "Marian was allowed to stay out past nightfall when she was _thirteen_. I'm fifteen _and_ a boy. How come she get away with everything?!"

The beginnings of a headache form at the accusation. Her brother uses her as a measure for all things wrong in his life.

_It's far too early for this._ She thinks with a groan, already sick of the needless debate. 

"Oh, just let him come." Hawke turns in her chair, forcing away her frustration with a smile. "The guards are there to help, not to mention Carver's sword arm _could_ use a bit of work." Though she's only teasing, she unwittingly redirects their anger onto her.

"I don't need you to advocate on my behalf, sister. I am a far better swordsman than you think." Carver bites out with a glare, irritation blatant in stark blue eyes. 

"It's bad enough that you're gone all hours of the day, Marian. Don't encourage your brother to do the same." Leandra berates, matching Carver's stance. 

Hawke's releases a weary sigh, wariness setting in at the duel attacks. "You know I only try to incite rebellion in small doses, mother. It's not my fault the boy wants to outdo me."

Carver snorts at her jest before picking up his great sword from the floor and sliding it into his shoulder holster. “I tire of you and your stupid jokes, sister." he grumbles with a shake of his head and storms over to and out the back door, ignoring Leandra's calls as he leaves the house. 

There's a moment of silence at his departure in which Leandra turns to level Hawke with a withering glare. The expression on her face is a familiar one, one Hawke would be able to recognize from miles away. 

A shining beacon of disapproval.

Her mother's eyes, so like Carver's, so like her own, practically scream “This is your fault." 

She hears ill spoken words echoing from memories plaguing her mind. 

_'Why must you be so selfish, Marian?'_

_'Why are you never here when we need you, Marian?'_

_'Why can't you just do better, Marian?'_

Disappointment so thick she can taste it fills her lungs, choking her.

Heart pounding, Hawke forces her gaze into neutral, returning her mother's glower with a blank stare. She waits for the lecture to begin.

Surprisingly, Leandra spins on her heel instead and exits the room without another word, leaving Hawke alone. 

Moments like these, her brother and mother are more alike than either would probably acknowledge.

She's not sure if she prefers this to her Leandra's usual reprimands.

Hawke stands to follow Carver, to make sure he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else in his fit of rage, swallowing any guilt she may feel and bearing it with a smile.

x

Bethany is troubled. She’s not sure how to explain it exactly but she feels as though she’s missing something important. A small detail that’s been overlooked, or, and what's more likely, has flown over her head. 

The sun shines in the distance, edging downwards. She is shaded by the winding branches of the elm tree that sits just outside her house. A bead of sweat rolls down her cheek and she swipes at her forehead hastily, wishing for fall to return to Lothering. 

Picking up her book, Bethany sets the large tome on her lap and begins listlessly combing through it, if only to appear as though she’s actually studying. For once, she agrees with her father’s assessment of her. She’s far too distracted lately. Her mind is in disarray. 

Marian's absence weighs on her heavily. It's as though a dull ache has taken residence in her chest. Often when she wakes, only the lingering scent of ironbark is there to greet her. 

She wonders, does Marian grow tired of her constant badgering? Did she overstep her boundaries by asking for more than her sister can give?

Is Marian keeping something from her? 

The tormenting thoughts cycle endlessly through her mind. 

Her sister is like a ghost. Here one moment, gone the next.

Lately it seems as if Marian has no time for her. Bethany knows her sister's training is important and is embarrassed by the neediness that prompts her to cling to the older girl. The last thing she wants to do is become more of a burden than she already is.

Maybe she's just overthinking things. Marian treats her well still but it feels like they don't talk. Not as often as she would like and never about things that actually matter. She longs for the days where the two of them would lounge around on the patio after their studies and delight in each other's company. 

All she wants is a little of her sister's attention. Is that too much to ask? 

Sighing, Bethany shuts the book and rests her head against the tree. Even the beauty of the outdoors isn't enough to distract her from her thoughts. She enjoys the silence. 

It's late in the evening and night will come soon. Hopefully the dark will bring her sister along with it.

A branch snapping calls her attention away from her musings. She snaps her head back at the sound, heart settling. It's only her mother. She attempts a small smile at Leandra's approach

"You've been out for a while, dear." Her mother stops near, eyes alight with worry. "Are you alright?"

Bethany considers the question. She's lonely, tired, it's hot and she misses Marian more than anything. But instead of speaking any of these things, knowing that they do not matter in the grand scheme of things, she simply nods. 

"Yes, I'm fine, mother. It's such a beautiful day. I thought I would study outside for a change." 

Truthfully, she had felt like she was going to go crazy cooped up in the house. But there was really no reason to stay out any longer. She's unable to focus on anything that's not her older sister. At least it's cooler inside. 

"Alright, dear." Leandra smiles at her kindly. "I just finished dinner. Your father will be home soon. I had hoped your siblings would have been home by now but I should've known better." she sighs and Bethany tenses, already knowing where this was going.

"Really, those two spend all hours of the day fighting. At least _one_ of my children knows the value of a good education." her mother clicks her tongue, disappointment soaking her words. "Carver is so eager to follow in Marian's footsteps. I'm glad to see she hasn't influenced you negatively." 

Smile tightening, Bethany bites down on her tongue to keep from challenging the callous words. She can't stand the way her mother talks about her sister sometimes. 

Bethany doesn't understand why Leandra is so harsh with Marian, always forcing stifling expectations down her sister's throat. Marian works hard and does more than what should be required of someone her age. And Marian at least helps Father with the bills, which is more than she can say about their mother.

The spiteful thought startles Bethany. Since when did she start thinking such things? She rubs her head, feeling tired and foolish. Considering how much of a burden she herself is, the last thing she should be doing is judging others.

"I don't feel very well. I think I'm going to lay down." Bethany mumbles, struggling to her feet. She sidesteps her mother's hand, embarrassed and ashamed of herself.

Not bothering to wait for a response, she hurries into the house. The anger fueled words on the tip of her tongue have the potential to cause more devastation than her family thought her capable. She bites down roughly, tasting blood.

Bethany is rattled. She wonders, not the first time, if maybe she would be better off in the Circle after all.

x

Hawke stumbles home, wiping the blood from her nose irritably. 

There is a keen bitterness rising inside her, something she is forced to hide. Her mother's snide remarks and her brothers biting disdain infuriate her, steadily chipping away at her well maintained facade. 

The bruise on her cheek is just now fading. Carver cannot be reasoned with, choosing to lash out violently instead of talk. 

Her resentment is mounting.

Hawke tires of forcing smiles when all she wants to do is scream.

x

Bethany lies awake in bed, curled up in cool sheets.

Exhaustion pulls heavily at her. Lessons with father are always draining, emotionally and physically. Still, they weren't enough to distract her from her guilt. 

The curtains are drawn tightly, and the door to the bedroom is closed, with a strip of light peeking into the room. The dark soothes her frayed emotions.

Callous fingers brush across her temple and Bethany's nose scrunches up at the feeling. She blindly reaches out and smiles when her hand is caught.

Bethany's eyes flutter open and her heart picks up at the sight of her older sister smiling down at her. It takes a moment for them to adjust to the dark and she frowns at what lies before her. She sits up quickly, pushing past the initial rush of vertigo. 

"Marian, you're bleeding!" Bethany cups her sister's cheeks and gently angles Marian's head to the side so she can get a better look at the nasty cuts marring sun kissed skin. 

They look painful and she knows they will scab and soon match the other scars littering her sisters lean form. She takes in the bloody nose and bruises. Her heart sinks. 

A soft chuckle escapes the older girl's mouth as she places her hand over one of Bethany's. "It's okay. They're not that bad." 

Brows furrowing, Bethany observes the wounds carefully, wanting to make that assessment for herself.

Feeling nauseous, she wills her heart to slow. Fear pulses heavily in her as she runs her eyes over Marian's body. She's scared. She's always scared when Marian comes home covered in cuts and bruises. 

All she wants is the pull her sister to her and never let go. She wishes that Marian would be more mindful during her training. 

Bethany knows there's not much she can do for the other wounds spanning the other girls length and reluctantly settles for healing the most painful looking ones. 

Leaning forward, she gently presses her lips against the cut on Marian's forehead and channels creation magic into it, sewing the skin back together until there's no evidence that anything was ever there. 

She winces as she feels the pain of the cut slicing into her before slowly fading away. Bethany repeats this process until Marian's face is recognizable. 

"Be more careful, would you?" She sniffles, feeling foolish at how easily she's worked up when it comes to her sister. 

Marian's hum's in response, cradling Bethany's jaw in her hands. "Thank you, Bethy." she murmurs, rubbing soft circles into her cheeks. "I knew you'd fix me right up." 

Eyes's closing, Bethany attempts to calm, reassuring herself with the knowledge that her sister is safe with her. "What happened?" she asks after a minute. 

When Marian lowers her palms from her cheeks, Bethany immediately grabs them and pulls one into her lap, wanting to maintain some form of contact. She wonder if she annoyed her sister with the question. Bethany begins to fiddle with the slim digits nervously, a habit left over from when they were children. 

"Carver got a bit cocky, is all." Marian cuts her eyes away with a tsk, annoyance evident in her voice. "You know how he can be..." she trails off, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "That little shit always goes for the face; I think he's trying to make me ugly." Marian whines, a touch dramatic. "The nose can only be set a number of times before the damage starts to show, Beth!" 

Bethany shakes her head at her sister's shallow comments, taking them in stride. Marian uses humor to deflect. She knows Marian is only trying to distract her from her worry. "I hope you didn't hurt him too much." she says instead, squeezing Marian's fingers gently.

A loud snort is drawn from Marian's nose. "He's lucky I didn't break his sword arm with the shit he pulled today. No way was I going to let brother dearest get away with attempting to mar my gorgeous face."

Sighing, Bethany glances down at their clasped hands worriedly. The fights between her twin and their sister worry her, too often bordering on real violence. She doesn't understand the animosity between her siblings, though she suspects it has a lot to do with Marian being the superior swordsman. 

Not that Carver is bad. He's actually quite impressive with a blade. But reason often escapes her twin. He has grown vindictive towards their elder sister. Marian is perceived at fault for any wrongdoing in his life. 

Though, her sister's attitude towards Carver isn't much better. Bethany can tell that Marian has become weary of their brother's antics. As distasteful as her sister's jokes usually are, they are particularly callous when it comes to Carver. 

While she knows her siblings love one another but she doubts they'll ever truly get along. 

Pushing those thoughts away to dwell on later, Bethany refocuses her attention on Marian, who has shuffled forward to rest against her shoulder. She immediately begins combing through her sister's unfurled hair, grimacing at the feeling of sweat and grime.

"You should bathe, sister. You reek." 

Marian's laugh is tired and pained. "You wound me, Bethy." 

Bethany's heart aches. She hates how miserable her sister sounds. Her grip tightens slightly, "I only speak the truth."

"Cmon, you can't tell me that the smell of dried blood and dirt isn't appealing." 

Bethany hums at this, an amused smile playing on her lips. "Now, sister, just what will the girls say when they find out the dashing Marian Hawke refuses to bathe after rolling around in mud all day?" she asks, humoring her, hoping to distract her sister from the pain.

"'Please allow me to press against your naked body and wash you, Marian'?"

"Oh, gross!" Bethany giggles as Marian lifts her head to give her a toothy grin before settling back against her. 

Indifferent to the sweat and blood soaking her sister's clothing, Bethany wraps her arms around Marian and draws her closer, tugging her down onto the bed. "You're perverted." she murmurs fondly. 

Marian lowers and sinks into Bethany's chest. "Only a little." 

Warmth seeps through Bethany's skin as they lay in a comfortable silence. After a moment, Marian speaks up. 

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow. Just the two of us."

Bethany glances down at the mop of raven locks in surprise, joy coursing through her at the unexpected request. "I thought you were training with the city guard tomorrow?"

Freckled shoulders lift in an half hearted shrug. "I can work around it." Marian raises her head once more, grin in place. "Besides, I miss spending time with my favorite sister." 

Bethany's brow rises, confused by Marian's declaration. "I'm your _only_ sister."

"There are quite a few at the Chantry who would disagree, Bethy."

"Ugh, you're a wretch." 

"But you love me for it." 

Bethany's stomach flutters because she _does_.

Just being in Marian presence is enough to make everything bearable once more. Her sister is so frustratingly charming and cocksure of herself that Bethany can't help but be entranced. She doesn't have to pretend to be anything other than who she is with Marian. She doesn't feel like a monster. The older girls warmth has a calming effect. 

Life as an apostate wasn't so bad with her sweet jester of a sister around. 

Bethany smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her sister's head, grateful for her, enamored with her. "Thank you for coming home tonight, Ree." she whispers, her voice soft, as soothing as the darkness in the room.

"Anything for you, Beth. Anything."

x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but wanted to get something out there. sorry for the horrendous wait and thank you so much to everyone who has showed this story respect and support.

Hawke wipes at her mouth with a huff. “I don’t remember this path being as long last time.” she mutters irritably, pushing aside a thick branch before it can hit her. The last thing she wants to do is add to the assortment of minuscule cuts littering her face.

Bethany gently squeezes Hawke’s hand in response.

“It’s not that much farther, sister." Hawke shivers when Bethany presses against her back. "I know it's difficult, but do try not to tear down any trees in a fit of rage.”

The forest is alive around them. It’s early. Hawke can just barely see the sun peeking out between the twisting branches of the oak trees.

A hint of a smile, one of many in the past hour, plays on Hawke’s lips at her sister's light teasing. “I make no promises. I’m quite the brute, you know.”

Bethany giggles behind her; the sound eases the thick band of frustration around Hawke’s heart. She takes a breath. Tension slowly seeps from her shoulders as she leads them along the winding pathway.

The chances of running into another person at this time of day are slim. Hawke has walked this path many times and suspects she and Bethany will be safe from prying eyes.

Knowing they are completely alone makes Hawke anxious.

She rambles aimlessly to keep her nerves at bay, until she trails off into silence.

The air is damp; she takes shallow breaths and wipes at her forehead. Sweat sticks to her skin uncomfortably. The humidity exhausts her more than it probably should.

“You know,” Bethany starts, taking on a sly tone as she angles closer.“I’m surprised at how winded you sound. Perhaps you've been taking it easier in your training than you've let on.” she muses, inadvertently voicing Hawke’s thoughts.

Hawke stifles a groan. "Another jab at my physique? Careful, Bethany. I may develop a complex."

Bethany hums, amusement alight in the sound. "Doubtful. Your confidence often borders on arrogance, sister."

The flippant words cause Hawke to falter in her steps. She glances back at the younger girl, a pout settling on her lips. "Must you always call me out on my shortcomings, dear sister?”

“Just an observation, Marian.” Bethany says with a laugh.

"Sure." Hawke sniffles, feigning offense

Bethany falls quiet after that and Hawke allows herself a moment to enjoy the comfort her sister's presence always brings. She slows her gait and gazes over at Bethany in a moment of muted concentration.

Convincing their parents to allow Bethany out the house had proved far more troublesome than Hawke had expected. She had to promise Leandra that she would stay home and help with the chores for the next week.

Not that she really minded, since it meant more time with Bethany.

However, next time she resolves to simply whisk her sister away with their parents none the wiser.

Bethany doesn't get out enough. Hawke refuses to allow their paranoia to infringe on her sister’s wellbeing.

As her thoughts wander, her eyes slowly begin to drift along the length of the younger girl's body in admiration. Bethany, not noticing her gaze, speaks to her in gentle tones as she takes lead.

Hawke thinks Bethany is always beautiful but here, under a bright sun, she’s breathtaking.

The view stirs something in Hawke.

She wants to pull Bethany close and press her against a passing tree; aches to draw a flush to those lovely cheeks, to make her feel _good_.

The final thought snaps Hawke out of her affection induced haze. She looks away, embarrassed by her musings. As always, shame tightens her throat, makes it hard for her to breathe.

Her palms grow damp. She drops her sister's hand in a fit of disgust, ignoring Bethany’s confused gaze.

She turns, angry at herself for allowing her desires to once again get in the way of her time with Bethany.

Hawke longs for the days where she was unaware of her perversity. She is at a loss.

For months she has tried to smother her feelings, going as far as to screw her way through half the town’s populace in the small hope they would disappear or at least dampen in intensity.

Nothing has helped. The sex is meaningless. Fun, but empty. It's been weeks since she's last taken a girl to bed. She can no longer stomach the idea of touching someone who isn't Bethany.

The thought makes her ill. The guilt wears her thin.

She's tires of the constant swarm of emotions.

Hawke knows only a freak would want to fuck their own sister.

"Are you okay, Ree?” Bethany’s voice is small but soft. The concern she can hear in her sister’s voice warms her skin.

She wonders what Bethany would do if she kissed her. Arousal and nausea swirl in her stomach at the idea. She can't bring herself to hold her sister's gaze.

Hawke’s smile is tight and she forces out a laugh. "Of course." she replies airily, reaching over to pinch Bethany's cheek. "Just contemplating how much trouble I would get in if I cut off all of Carver's hair."

Bethany swats her hand away with a grimace and gives Hawke a measured look. "You wouldn't."

Her laugh is more genuine when Bethany responds to the baited words.

Hawke shrugs nonchalantly. "What? That shaggy mess he calls a hairstyle is winning him no favors. Girls love the clean cut look.” she pauses and rubs her chin. “Boys too." she adds, almost as an afterthought before shaking her head. "Maybe he'll finally lay off if he replaces that stick up his arse with something more pleasing."

"That's mean, Ree."

“I'm only doing my duty as the helpful older sister that I am."

Bethany's sigh is exasperated but she makes no further comment on the topic. She walks a few paces ahead of Hawke, annoyance coiled in the set of her jaw.

Hawke bites down roughly on her bottom lip and looks down.

_Liar liar liar_

She only has this. She's content with the fallacy of her sardonic persona. She's disgusted by herself. The dichotomy drives her crazy.

When did she become so depraved? How did this happen?

She licks away the trail of blood from her mouth.

Hawke hopes Bethany never learns the truth of what she's become.

x


End file.
